


Stick By

by JanitorBot



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 05:50:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11594232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanitorBot/pseuds/JanitorBot
Summary: Drax watches over Groot until he's grown.





	Stick By

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday gift for a friend. I hope you enjoy it because it took me way too long to figure out what to write.

Everything about the infantile Groot is modest these days.

 

Feeding is simple (Groot requires only water and a bask under the full spectrum hydroponic lights), playtime is simple (once must only grab the nearest object and stuff it to Groot’s laughably tiny fingers and he’ll be occupied for at least an hour), and supervision is simple (Groot’s feet have not fully manifested yet and can only walk for short periods of time before becoming exhausted).

 

Despite how simple it is to take care of Groot, he is still a baby and so Rocket is extremely protective and expects no less than one hundred and fifty percent attention from anyone designated to Baby Groot Duty.

 

Which is why Rocket gives Groot to Drax when the not-vermin bounty hunter has to isolate himself in a lab making Ampheta-Cree bombs. Drax is the very best at Baby Groot Duty.

 

“Huh, I know you had a kid before but it was hard imagining you as a dad.”

 

Drax looks away from Groot sleeping in in his hands and sees Quill, in a slightly dirtied white t-shirt with his arms are crossed, leaning casually against the entrance edge of the room. Drax has been using the tiny pen laser and watched Groot chase the little red light all over the room until he finally plopped down, yawned, and immediately enter slumber.

 

The terran raise his hands up in a placating manner as he walks closer. “Don’t get me wrong man. It’s just you’re this hardcore tribal warrior guy and half the time I’ve seen you this past week you were nonstop raging for Ronan’s blood. Didn’t think you could take care of Groot so well.” He stops short in front of Drax with a smile pulling at one corner. “Damn he’s ugly but cute. Kinda reminds me of bull dogs.”

 

The mentioning of Groot’s name makes the tiny alien shift in Drax’s palms before he settles on his side, curling up in a fetal position. His breathing resumes back to normal.

 

“This puny tree is much easier to handle than my Kamaria,” Drax says finally. “Kamaria was a beautiful, energetic child with a great thirst for battle. She would try to run off as soon she wakes up to find trouble and see she can wrestle with it.” He smiles. “I was so proud of her.”

 

“Well compare to your daughter, Groot must be a piece of cake then.”

 

Drax narrows his eyes. “Groot is made of wood. Not cake.”

 

Drax thinks he is. Drax hasn’t seen Groot opened up to know if there are any proper organs inside the plant-based alien, but that would kill Groot and Drax does not like the notion.

 

“Oh my god,” Quill groans, “I mean Groot is easy! Easy! Piece of cake is just another metaphor!”

 

“Your planet used food as a gauge for various difficulties?”

 

“Yeah sure –“

 

Drax snorts. “Not only does Earth continuously invent more music and dances that no sane individual in the galaxy to learn and master, but also applies desserts for situations they do not belong in. You are truly a worthy representative of Earth.”

 

“Uh I just lost you,” Quill says, confused.

 

Drax smile is full of fondness for his dumb friend. “Your planet is filled with frivolousness, inefficiency, self-indulgence and insanity. Like you. You embody the sheer ridiculousness of the Milky Way and I am honored to be your comrade.”

 

Quill opens and closes his mouth, reminding Drax of aquatic organisms. Finally the human throws up his hands and says, “I don’t know what to say to that so I’m just gonna go to bed now. Good night, big guy.”

 

Drax nods as Quill turns heel, the automatic door sliding shut. Drax carefully puts Groot in his pot by the windowsill. Gently, he nudges the tree alien to curl up better within the boundaries of the pot to be comfortable.

 

Once Drax concludes that Groot is safely on the center of the pot and will not accidentally roll out like he did in the previous solar cycle, the gray warrior lies down on his berth and falls asleep.

 

* * *

 

Even though they’re deemed as Guardians of the Galaxy, surprisingly they don’t get shot at by humongous fleets everyday. It used to be a pleasant weekly occurrence until Yondu’s funeral and everybody agreed that after the fantastic shitshow that was Ego, the Guardians of the Galaxy need a break.

 

Which means everyone in the crew now has plenty of time to watch over Groot more. The Baby Groot Duty is more rotational now that Baby Groot is more or less Toddler Groot by this point and does not need extreme care.

 

Except for special cases.

 

“I am Groot?”

 

Gamora pauses in the middle of sharpening one of her numerous blades and looks down to see Toddler Groot holding what seems to be an erotic magazine featuring a female Zehoberei on the cover with the obnoxiously cheerful tagline of “10 EROGENOUS SPOTS YOU DIDN’T KNOW! Find out on page 14.”

 

Gamora rolls her eyes and takes it away from Groot’s hands. “This is nothing important. Quill shouldn’t be leaving these things around for you to easily see them.”

 

“I am Groot,” says Groot somberly. “I am Groot.”

 

Gamora coughs. “Wouldn’t it be better for Rocket to answer that?”

 

“I am Groot. I am Groot I am Groot.”

 

“Of course he wouldn’t know,” Gamora sighs just as Drax enters the break room.

 

Groot then immediately runs toward Drax exclaiming, “I am Groot! I am Groot, I am Groot?”

 

“Drax, don’t think about it too much. He found a porn mag and he didn’t understand anything he saw,” Gamora explains. “I’ll find one of Quill’s video games and he’ll forget about it.”

 

But Drax doesn’t show any visual reaction of listening to Gamora. In fact, his face stretches into a giant grin, eyes shining, moved, and says,” It is a joyous occasion to be able to regale another individual my mother’s tale of conquest! I shall tell you everything I know, dumber Groot.”

 

Gamora remembers that this is cultural bonding among Drax’s people and quickly stands up and starts walking towards the exit.

 

Drax takes a nearby seat and picks Groot up, positioning Groot comfortably on one of his knees, a perfect picture of a parental figure. “You have no proper parents to tell you their tales of your conception because you are just a grass. Therefore I shall take it upon myself to tell you the tales of my conception. All your relevant questions of mating and the birthing of children shall be answered.”

 

“I am Groot,” says Groot attentively.

 

One hour later Gamora reenters the break room to find Drax sitting back comfortably like a proud father and Groot proclaiming wanting to be a reproductive expert when he grows up. Gamora says that Groot is a floral colossus and therefore his people are asexual.

 

Groot decides that he’ll be a reproductive expert for all species besides his and when Quill enters the room, the little tree goes up to Quill, lays a hand on the human’s belly, and declares seriously to Gamora that if Quill ever decides to give birth to Gamora’s spawn, Groot will happily help deliver.

 

Drax is so moved a manly tear was glistening in his eye.

 

* * *

 

Teen Groot is not as sweet as Toddler Groot.

 

Groot’s experiencing what Rocket explains is puberty shedding. At this age, Groot is experiencing severe growth spurts and that translates to literal growths. Groot is growing so fast that his bark peels off constantly, his vines thickens and take roots in corners of the ship, and his leaves go through seasons in the matter of weeks.

 

Despite the green and brown mess that Groot leaves behind, he doesn’t clean up after himself. He is literally a walking, sullen plant asshole of a teenager.

 

Rocket won’t do anything about it because according to the raccoon, he views being a grumpy pissbaby as proper social behavior because it helps establish oneself as a “do-not-fucking-mess-with-me” individual to the rest of the universe. Drax is too amused at Quill’s and Gamora’s frustration to say anything to Groot, and comments that the sheer abundance of plant life inside the ship reminds him nostalgically of his home planet. In short, Drax doesn’t care at all to say anything.

 

That is until Mantis trips on one of the vines and faceplants onto the floor.

 

“Oh! I am fine and nothing is wrong with all the plants! I find the leaves interesting!” she exclaims to Drax, smiling through her bruised nose. “Sometimes when I have nothing to do, I gather all the leaves and do that bizarre Terran thing I see in their entertainment media and jump on them! I am sure they have a reason to do such a ritual and so I am trying to learn.”

 

Then her nose starts bleeding and Drax decides then and there that since Mantis is a naïve, clumsy pushover, all signs of nonintellectual plant life must be gone for the ship to be successfully childproofed again for her sake.

 

Drax remembers that his people have a specific way in handling vulnerable children and nods to himself. That is what he must do.

 

Drax strides up to Groot’s room and, when the door slides open, wraps his meaty arm around Groot’s neck and puts him in a chokehold.

 

“I AM GROOT?!” Groot cries, his video game dropping on the floor.

 

“GOOD MORNING YOU OVERGROWN HOUSEPLANT!” Drax yells with a grin. “IN THIS SHIP NO ONE IS A MORE PROPER PARENTAL FIGURE THAN I AND SO IT IS APPROPRIATE THAT I SHALL BE THE ONE TO MOLD YOU INTO AN ADULT. BACK ON MY PLANET, TEENAGERS ARE TO BE TRAINED INTO ADULTHOOD THROUGH CONSTANT NEAR-DEATH EXPERIENCES UNTIL WE CAN TRUST THEM TO BE POWERFUL PROTECTORS AND RULE THEIR HOUSEHOLDS WITH AN IRON FIST!”

 

“I. AM. GROOT!”

 

Drax punches the vines reaching for him before wrapping his legs around Groot’s waist, pushing them down and stretching Groot’s back like a taffy. “IF YOU CAN’T EVEN CLEAN UP YOUR LEAFY DROPPINGS, YOU ARE NO ADULT!” Drax releases one leg to knee into the small of Groot’s back, forcing the stiff tree alien to arch painfully. Groot starts fumbling around, smashing his back onto various walls and furnitures in an attempt to get Drax off, but Drax holds on tight, immovable. “IS THAT ALL YOU GOT? MY GREAT – GREAT – GREAT – GREAT – “

 

Groot roars and finally pulls Drax off his back with an armful of vines, slides open the door, and tosses the gray warrior out down the hall. Perhaps Drax’s great-great-great-great-great grandfather is indeed not weaker than Groot now.

 

While lying upside down, lower body against the wall and head on the floor, Drax concedes that Groot wins this round.

 

But the next day he whips out the flamethrower and starts setting some of the plants on fire, including Groot while he was drinking mineral water.

 

And the next day Drax finds a tank full of acid and every time he passes by Groot’s room, would force the door open, pelt a ladle full of viscous orange liquid and would guffaw as the furious screams of “I AM GROOOOT” down the hallway. Then the next day asks Quill to purchase him a Coptotermes Colossus for a pet, and watches in delight as Groot’s face twists into horror that the giant bug can consume his vines within seconds. Rocket was especially not pleased with the last one.

 

Tormenting Teenage Groot continues until one day when Drax wakes up and the entire ship is free from Groot’s shedding. Everyone is more than satisfied with this outcome except Mantis.

 

“Marble is gone!” Mantis cries, searching for the giant termite up and down the ship. No surprise that the ugly girl has become attached to the ugly bug – they have many things in common. “I looked everywhere and I can’t find her anywhere!”

 

Behind Mantis is a giant window with a great view of the Andromeda galaxy and at a corner is said giant bug, frozen, floating aimlessly into space. Drax makes sure Mantis doesn’t look out the window for the next twenty minutes.

 

* * *

 

Raccoons don’t have long life spans.

 

Being enhanced doesn’t affect it too much.

 

There were signs of Rocket starting to slow down months after the Guardians took down Thanos. He can still put together bombs and guns on the fly faster than anyone in this and the next three quadrants in this corner of the universe, but he’s quieter now.

 

It doesn’t bother Drax at first. But sometimes Rocket would just sit on a bean bag next to him, watching Groot, Mantis, and Quill play board games in the center of the room, the raccoon too tired and sober to join in whatever the mentally immature were doing and Drax wonders a bit. In fact, Rocket doesn’t get drunk as much as usual. Says the hangovers are too much for him to handle.

 

“You’re getting old,” Drax would say.

 

“Shut up,” Rocket would reply.

 

Though Rocket doesn’t drink so much these days, that doesn’t mean he entirely stopped. One night after Drax takes an incredibly long dump one night and is ready to return to his berth, he finds Rocket stumbling down the hallway from the opposite direction with a half-empty bottle of A’avareeskish alcohol. Drax is impressed.

 

“Hey it’s my fav’rite giant lumbering, color blind asshole!” Rocket slurs out. “Get over here, I needa - needa tell you somethin’.”

“You can tell me on the way back to your room,” Drax says, picking up Rocket by his neck and it shows how smashed Rocket is since he’s not immediately barraging the warrior with a string of obscenities.

 

Drax puts Rocket over his shoulder and when he takes away the bottle, Rocket whines, his black paw reaching weakly for it before giving up.

 

“If ya pulled this shit on me last year I’d claw your eyes out, shove a good ol’ Cartarek 75 right up in your anus and watch you be propelled through space by shitting fireworks,” Rocket chuckles, his furry head tickling Drax’s neck. “Now I actually don’t want you to be dead. Only sometimes. What the ever living fuck.”

 

“I too feel the same,” Drax admits. “Even though on some days you are a flea-infested vermin and other days a probably delectable treat if treated with salt, in all days you are my friend. If you are to be killed in battle, I will avenge you.”

 

“Hah, you’d avenge me? I already feel sorry for the nonexistent bastard who’d have to deal with that.” Rocket pauses. “Actually, no, I don’t feel sorry at all. And don’t worry about avengin’ me buddy. Looks like I’m gonna be living this sorry life till the end. Fucking hell, didn’t expect it at all.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I’m dying Drax. I can feel my time running out.”

 

Drax stops walking. He tilts his head to look at the raccoon silently, his face and his posture demanding an explanation.

 

Rocket sighs, exhausted in a way that reminds Drax of the elders back home. “I have an expiration date like a sad pack of Tezarran bleen yogurt. Thank whatever shitty cosmic entity that decides to watch this godforsaken universe for the kicks and giggles that I’m going to keep my mental faculties with me, but my body is already shutting down. I’m getting slow and getting old too fast. I take a good half an hour to blow ass into the toilet because it takes out too much of me to push my organs to do its fucking job. I keep seeing lights blinking behind my eyelids like I’m strapped on a metal slab again and every time I wake up in the morning I know I’m not supposed to.”

 

The raccoon tucks his head in Drax’s shoulder, hiding his face away.

 

“This sorry meatsack of mine is rarin’ to go, Drax,” Rocket says, his words etching into Drax’s skin. “I just haven’t let it. Wanted to see where all you dumbasses be heading to next. But it seems like you guys are going to be fine without me.”

 

Drax looks down and asks quietly, “Who else knows?”

 

“Just you big guy.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I know your people,” Rocket coughs out. “You guys go through the same bullshit as I’m going through right now. If I told any of the others, they’d be trying to pull some dumb shit to stop the inevitable. Or even worse, like sending my ass to the nearest hospital and try pumping enhancements into my blood and I don’t want to spend the rest of my time eating food best thrown into the dirt and be Groot’s fertilizer. But you? You get it. I know you do.”

 

The raccoon brings a furry arm to his face and rubs it, wiping his eyes.

 

“Do me a favor. When I die, I want you to look after Groot for me. Everyone’s taken a good care of him, but you do the best. You know what being a guardian is. And I don’t mean a _Guardian_ , but a guardian. I need you to stick by him until either you die or the universe implodes. Got that?”

 

Drax exhales. “I swear that I will look over Groot until the end of time. You have my warrior’s oath.”

 

Rocket gives him the first smile of the night. “Good. Good. Now if you’re going to carry me like some useless bouncing, furry brat, you might as well take me to Groot’s room. I’m going to fucking cuddle that fucking tree.”

 

From that night on Rocket would sneak into every crewmember’s room (though once he found both Gamora and Quill in one room together and delightfully announced his presence to the both of them before they were about to get busy), finally ending up full circle back to Groot’s room again. One day, Drax wakes up to softy glowing blue spores lighting up the entire ship and follows their source back to Groot’s room.

 

Inside he finds a silent Groot in his room, every single inch covered with leafy vines and fully bloomed white flowers, stretching up towards the ceiling and dangling like curtains. In Groot’s arms is Rocket, curled up comfortable and peaceful. His chest doesn’t move.

 

* * *

 

Despite his promise to Rocket, Drax doesn’t really need to look after Groot too much. Groot is an adult. He’s nearly identical to the way he used to be before he sacrificed himself back when the Guardians fought Ronan, meaning he’s incredibly air-headed, thick-headed, and a giant behemoth of a humanoid tree specimen who can stuff his vines into any orifice and rip a person to shreds from the inside out.

 

But after Rocket’s funeral, Drax sticks by. When Gamora and Quill gets married and produces a spawn (that Groot helped delivered), Drax sticks by. When the Guardians drop by in an obscure planet nearby Meringtosh and Mantis learns that Ego didn’t successfully committed genocide on her people and she takes a leave to relearn her origins, Drax sticks by.

 

Now with his back slowly hunching forward, his muscles losing mass, his knees creaking, and overall just feeling his time ticking down, Drax is proud to say that he successfully stuck by Groot from the beginning of the colossus’s rebirth till the dimming horizon of his life cycle.

 

“I am Groot.”

 

Drax opens his eyes and sees the red sun on the yellow sky, the green dotting of the Khalevsian forests at the edge of the Marbiriah dustlands, and his red hometown, broken down in ruins and never returned to its former glory after Ronan destroyed it so thoroughly.

 

“Indeed, we are here.”

 

“I am Groot?”

 

“Don’t patronize me you overlarge stick,” Drax smiles, unoffended. “I may be old, but I can walk.”

 

The walk is silent. This part of the planet remains largely flat – most of the hilly terrain are farther down in the south - but Drax finds himself breathing heavily at the end of the long journey, gradually feeling the urgency as he gets closer and closer to his destination.

 

Just a couple feet away from the carcass of his home are two small mounds. Drax bends down on his knees and lay his wrinkled gray hands on top of both rounded dirt.

 

Groot extends a hand to grow a couple flowers in his palm and places them on the graves respectfully. “I am Groot.”

 

Decades ago before he became a Guardian, Drax would stop Groot, insulted that the sapient tree would see the buried reminders of his revenge against Ronan as his wife and daughter. Drax’s people believe that once someone is dead, they are completely gone and to equate their loved ones with masses of dead weight to be a dishonor to their lively memory.

 

But now Drax has traveled much, seen much, and understand much that Groot is sympathetic, not pitying.

 

“Thank you my friend,” Drax rumbles. “Though futile it is, I wished I could have introduced you to my wife and daughter.”

 

Drax begins coughing, he’s been away from his planet for so long that his lungs have gotten unused to the dusty winds especially at his age, and Groot pats his back gently. Drax waves the flora’s hand off and sits down between the graves comfortably. Groot grows vines after vines and structures them like a half dome above Drax, providing shade from the red sun.

 

“My life is complete. I have achieved my revenge, I have given my protection, and I have fulfilled my vow to my friends. There is no more I can ask for,” Drax begins, closing his eyes. “Except for you to continue your life as you always have, Groot. For Gamora and Peter’s descendants to continue as they always have and for Mantis to do the same. Simply and cheerfully like the pack of fools they are.”

 

“I am Groot,” Groot responds mournfully. “I…am Groot.”

 

“Indeed. Thank you for everything. I’m ready.”

 

Groot steps back, his eyes drawn downwards but he raises his arms anyways. Once Drax fully lies down, the greying warrior feels the curling scratches of vines below and above him until he’s enclosed in a wooden bubble only slightly wider of his own shape.

 

“We are Groot,” he hears Groot say before the last of the vines block his eyesight and the inside of his casket is filled with soft flowers, pink spores, and a calming smell.

 

Drax falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthdayyyyy :D


End file.
